We were valiant that day, the wind whipping our hair, and we knew that someday they would sing of us. We knew not whether the songs would depict us as good or evil, but we knew they would dub us glorious and splendid as we stood there and defied the Valar. We were fearless that day, and so we chose the ice. Yet we forgot to take account of the ice itself.

For the ice is an entity, just as I am. It watches us with resentment, the invaders who came from the west. Had we been safely in Tirion, I would have laughed at the idea, but here, where the world ends and begins all at once, I cannot deny it.

It is doing all in its power to stop us. The wind howls, storms brew, and the ice breaks beneath our feet. It wants us to go home, to leave it be. To be fair, it was here before we were, perfect, endless, unbroken. What it does not understand is that we cannot go back.

For ice does not understand pride.